Page 63 of Wings of Ash & Flame
She tugged the goggles over her hair.
“Ready?” he asked, holding out a hand to help her up.
The pull in her chest urged her forward. “As much as I can be.” She took his hand and climbed over. He settled in behind her in the slight dip of Beck’s back. She was flush against his chest, close enough to feel his heat through her leathers.
She gulped. Flying had always intrigued her, but sitting atop Beck, she was second-guessing it. The ground seemed like a safer, more stable place. Feet were meant to remain on the ground. Why change it?
Dawson whispered against her ear, “Don’t worry, Firework. I promise not to drop you.” He slid a hand around her waist. Her back went rigid, and he tightened his arms around her, bracing for take-off.
Without warning, Beck shot into the skies, fast and furious. Alaire screamed. Beck climbed higher into the sky. She dared to look down at the ground below. At this height, everything except the castle looked like a miniature playset.
The air was much cooler up here, and though she would never admit it, Alaire was grateful that Dawson suggested she change. She couldn’t imagine still being in that flimsy material. She didn’t want to even think about how much more would’ve been exposed pressed against Dawson. His body was solid and toasty against hers.
Dawson held what looked like a braid of feathers, a sort of reins.
She spread her hands into Beck’s feathers, trying to anchor herself without touching any parts of Dawson that weren’t necessary.
Before she could shift forward, his grip around her tightened, drawing her closer with ease. She scowled at the movement. He laughed under his breath, clearly relishing her irritation. The pull in her chest was dragging her in the opposite direction. She ignored it. It only grew, an unrelenting force, until her head smashed into Dawson’s chest.
“Oof.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t me.”
A soft laugh tickled her ear. “Why do I find it difficult to believe that causing me pain wasn’t intentional?”
“I can’t deny the thought has crossed my mind, but I can’t take credit for it this time. The pull is directing me south.”
Dawson didn’t utter a single word to Beck as he banked left, changing course. The telepathic connection—so cool.
Wind roared around them, an unrelenting force against her skin, but suddenly, there was silence. A soft hum of magic coiled around them like an invisible cocoon, muting the howl to a whisper. His aether at work.
For the first time, the world felt still. The knot that lived within her relaxed slightly. She closed her eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest. The rhythmic thrum of Beck’s beating wings, the bite of the high-altitude air as the scent of salted wind and frosted evergreen settled over her.
“I hadn’t expected flying to feel so peaceful.”
“Flying helps when my head gets too loud,” he said, the warmth of his breath skimming her neck. “Especially when I’m thinking about my father.”
A thumb absentmindedly brushed her hip bone. She twisted her hands deeper into Beck’s feathers, fighting the urge to lean her head back against his shoulder.
“My mother refused to tell me who he was or what happened to him. It’s an ache, a missing presence, I still feel. I would do anything to have known him, to get him back.” He lowered his voice, sounding almost wistful.
The confession was somber and unexpected. It was the first sliver of something real, a glimpse behind the façade. Up here, who they were back at the academy felt so far away.
“I’m sorry.” She hated how inadequate the words felt, but they were all she had. Maybe Dawson’s life hadn’t been as easy as she’d assumed.
“Thank you,” he said, the pain evident in his voice, but his grip on her waist tightened.
Alaire turned back to look at him. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, the rawness of his emotions hovering right below the surface. She turned back, fixing her gaze on the horizon ahead. Then, quietly, Alaire offered her own truth. “Life in the orphanage was difficult—life after it was tougher. Even now, it’s still hard to see the amount of food we have access to here and not think of those nights my stomach gnawed at me while I slept. Our food was rationed, so every child at least got something. But it was never enough. It was even worse on the streets. The conditions right here in Cielore are abhorrent.”
Dawson didn’t adjust his hold on her, but she felt his sharp intake of breath.
“One of the only bright spots during that time was my friend Blake. A null, he was shunned by his family. He volunteered at the orphanage. Blake taught me everything I know, trained me in combat and breathwork. Without him, I wouldn’t have survived.” Her throat tightened, but she continued. “He was drafted when the war resumed and killed in action. Because he was deemed as disposable as the humans.”
She traced the rachis of each of Beck’s feathers. “I’m telling you this not because I want your sympathy but because this is happening in your territory, Dawson. My story is far from the worst and one of thousands. You are a prince of House Aetheris. You’re in a position to make changes. So make them.”
For a long, weighted moment, he said nothing. But he flexed his hand around her waist twice, telling her he was listening.
“A truth for a truth, prince.”
